


Immortality

by 1D2D3D



Category: GOT7
Genre: Aegyo, Famous, Human, Immortality, M/M, Mark loves pranks, Minor Character Death, Multi, Past life, Slow Build, angsty Mark, i don't know how to tag, m/m - Freeform, relationship, slight religious undertones in first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:18:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1D2D3D/pseuds/1D2D3D
Summary: “Ah fuck. You'll never guess who's resurfaced again.”“Fucking...Mark?”“Fucking Mark.”Immortality is meant to be kept a secret. Immortality is meant to be a thing of fairytales... Not when Mark is involved. He's an immortal who doesn't shy away from photos or paintings. He photobombs everything with a pout and a suave pose. He commissions numerous portraits of themselves as a literary romantic before faking their death.What is an immortal elder supposed to do?





	1. Prologue

“He's Back Isn't He?”

Those were the dreaded words. The four words that no immortal ever wanted to hear. These words were the only things that could strike both fear and annoyance into the hearts of all immortals at the same time. All immortals that is, except one.

Mark Tuan.

Much like Peter Pan, Mark never grew up, to the consternation of the elders who have watched over his antics for the past millenias with frustrated sighs and disapproving words of wisdom for him to ignore completely. To understand this complete lack of respect for his elders, you need to understand Mark. So, back to the beginning of his story we go, back to when he first discovered who he was.

_Dear Reader,_

_A side note if I may? This is not my story to tell, I am merely a mouth-piece for this story, a way for you to understand the strange world Mark found himself in and how he dealt with it. I have been given exprezs permission by the ones who lived this tale, and will try my hardest to relate to you their every emotion and feeling throughout. Please standby as I gather my thoughts and figure out how best to present their connected lives to you._

_Sincerely,_

_An Innocent Bystander ___


	2. Salem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the start of Mark's story.

“Burn her! Burn the witch! The Devil has a hold of her soul!” were the cries that Mark could hear as he hurried through the throng of angry villagers, towards the pyre they were all surrounding. He couldn't understand why this was happening, he couldn't understand why his mother was being accused of witchcraft. His mother had never done anything wrong in her life, she had always been a devout follower of God, always abiding by his word, so why was she now being persecuted by her peers?

“Leave her alone!” he screamed as he saw the Pastor of their village lift a burning torch to the base of the pyre that his mother was strapped to. 

The Pastor looked up at this and smiled serenely. “My boy, we are saving her soul from the Devil. Surely you want your mother to end in heaven?” 

Mark shook his head in confusion. “But she is a good person, she has never done anything wrong in her life!” he cried looking straight into her eyes.

The Pastor just laughed. “My boy, she has been accused of creating vials of liquid that bring about changes in behaviour, she even tried to tempt me away from the Lord's work! She must be purified in order to visit Heaven's Gates!” With that final statement, he leant down and set the straw beneath her feet ablaze.

“Kill the witch! Kill the witch!” was chanted throughout the crowd as Mark pushed his way to the front, scrabbling up the platform to reach his mother. He was restrained by some of the church-goers, but at the sounds of his mother's screams and the smell of her burning flesh, Mark gained another round of strength and pushed everyone that was holding him back to the ground. He raced forwards, past the Pastor and onto the burning pyre, his outstretched hand straining to reach his mother. He barely registered the shocked gasps of the villagers as they watched him get engulfed by the orange flames, trying to free his mother from her pain.

He could feel his arms begin to blister, could see his clothes melt away from his body, but none of that mattered if he couldn't reach his mother, if he couldn't save her from this. He screamed as his skin burned across his body, his hand brushing his mother's before everything faded to black.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His eyes fluttered open as he registered the arms that were wrapped around him gingerly, as though they were trying not to cause him any pain. Groaning softly, he tried to sit up, arms flailing when he realised that he was being carried into the woods away from the remnants of a burning pyre. Still waving his arms around frantically he hit the person carrying him in the face, causing them to drop him unceremoniously to the ground. 

“What was that for?” he heard a voice whine from above him. Confused, Mark looked up from his position on the floor, only to see a young man's face staring down at him with an expression that seemed to be a mix between admiration and pity. 

Mark just dropped his head to the floor, “Who are you?” he questioned, before thinking of an even more pertinent question, “What happened to my mother? Where is she?” he cried frantically at the stranger, whose face fell at the last two questions. Mark took in his posture, noticing the way the man avoided looking at his eyes, the way he stared resolutely at the ground, trying to figure out the best way to answer his questions. 

“Oh.” Mark stated simply. He knew in that moment that she had passed on. He knew that she had left him alone in this scary world. “I see.” Images flashed before his eyes, as he remembered the events that lead to his mother's death, he narrowed his eyes as his mind conjured up an image of the Pastor holding a burning torch victoriously. Not focussed on anything else, like how he had survived, or who the stranger was, Mark made up his mind. He got up, dusted off his now naked body with little care for the stranger who was watching him calmly, and walked off towards the village. 

The stranger caught up to him and grabbed his arm tightly. “What do you think you're doing?” he hissed angrily. Mark shrugged him off and continued to walk in the direction of the his old home, with one purpose in his mind. “You can't go back there!” the stranger panted, struggling to keep up with his fast pace. “You don't understand! If you go back they'll...” the man's voice trailed off as Mark spun around, his eyes blazing with anger. He took one step towards the man, smiling slightly as he took an involuntary step back, not noticing that he was stood on the bank of a stream. There was a loud splash as the stranger fell into the cold stream, spluttering at the sight of Mark's retreating back against the setting sun's rays. 

“That little...” he sighed. “He is going to be an interesting addition to the family.” he muttered to himself before climbing out of the stream.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mark stormed into town just as the darkness began to crawl across the sky, his feet walking purposefully in one direction, ignoring the startled gasps of the villagers at the sight of a naked man walking towards the church. He flung the doors to the church open, the heaven wood crashing against the walls of the church, causing the Pastor to jump and turn around to look at the intruder.

"It can't be." he gasped as his eyes took in the sight before him. To the Pastor, Mark looked like a vengeful angel, with the sun's dying rays creating a glowing aura around his naked body as he stood in the doorway of the church. The Pastor fell to his knees, his hands raised in prayer at the sight of the boy he had watched die. 

"You killed her." stated a quiet voice which seemed to bounce across the walls of the church, instilling a sense of apprehension within the kneeling man. "She did no wrong. Yet you killed her anyway."

The awed man reached out to him. "I was saving her! God gave me a duty and I followed his word!" he tried to justify, as Mark reached his kneeling position. Mark grasped his chin forcefully and tilted his face up so that he could stare into the eyes of his mother's killer.

The Pastor gulped at the darkness within the "angel's" eyes, as said angel leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Look at me. There is no God." Mark released the shaking Pastor before turning his back on the weak man. "The only reason I haven't killed you yet, is because she wouldn't want me to. You have her to thank for the rest of your pitiful life." he spat as he walked to the entrance of the Church. A scraping sound from behind him caused him to whirl around just as the Pastor ran at him holding onto a heavy, brass candlestick holder raised above his head, a crazed look in his eyes. Mark dodged the man's heavy swing, the item in his hand causing him to overbalance and fall down the stairs into the village courtyard. The villagers crowded around him, as Mark slipped into the shadows watching from afar as the man started babbling about vengeful ghosts and angels trying to kill him. Mark watched with slight satisfaction as the villagers slowly turned their backs on the crazed Pastor, not wanting to catch the Devil that had clearly possessed his soul. He jumped as a pale hand grasped a hold of his elbow and dragged him further into the dark and away from what used to be his home.


	3. BamBam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to meet the 'mysterious' stranger...

“You utter moron!” seethed the boy who had helped him earlier. Mark noticed with a slight pang of guilt that he was shivering from the cold water that had seeped through his clothes and now clung to him in the waning sunlight. He shivered as he realised that the cold this strange boy was feeling had crept across his naked body and into his bones. Suddenly conscious of his naked body and this stranger, Mark crossed his arms around his body attempting to regain some form of decency and dignity. 

The stranger rolled his eyes at Mark's sudden shyness, before throwing some clothes that he had found in the village at Mark's face. “Get dressed before you catch a cold.” he sighed as Mark turned around and pulled on the clothes quickly. “I'm going to have to tell you the rules before you run off and cause more chaos aren't I?” he muttered, more to himself than anything.

“Rules?” Mark asked, turning back around. “We're nowhere near the 'rules' stage of this matter. You're going to explain everything to me and then I'm going to decide whether I'm going to beat you with a stick or not. Odds are, I'm going to want to beat you.” he warned calmly.

The stranger sighed once more, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Obviously I'm going to tell you about everything...I just don't know how you're going to take it.” he sat down on a nearby log and gestured for Mark to do the same. “First off, my name's Kunpimook Bhuwakul, but everyone just calls me BamBam. I'm nineteen years old, and I died twenty years ago.”

Mark raised an eyebrow at that last statement. “You died twenty years ago. Yet you're standing in front of me. Explain.”

“I think it was twenty years ago? Time kind of blends together after a while and you start to lose count and track of everything. Anyway, last thing I remember is walking through the jungle with my little sister, and a pair of bright yellow eyes. I guess we must have woken up a tiger or something, because next thing I know, I'm waking up in a pool of my own blood, watching as deep claw marks across my chest stitch themselves back together. It was disgusting. Cool, but disgusting.”

Mark pulled a face at the description of BamBam's body sewing itself back together. “So what happened with me? I just remember waking up in your arms, I don't remember any pain or anything like that. How does this even happen? Why am I alive and not my mother?” he shot question after question at BamBam, who tried his best to answer. 

“Honestly Mark I can't answer these questions. These are the sort of things that only the Elders of our community would know, they're the ones who suggested I come here for a routine check, I think they know a lot more than they share, but they're the ones who could potentially answer your questions.” BamBam answered ruefully. He felt terrible that he couldn't give Mark any information, but it wasn't for a lack of trying. There were some gaps in his own memory that he was trying to earn back by helping out other new Immortals.

“Elders? What is this some kind of cult?” Mark sneered at BamBam's inability to answer his questions. 

“It's just what we in the 'Immortal' community call the ones who have been alive for the longest and have learned the knowledge behind our existence. No-one knows how or why we get to live and others don't, but our existence is pretty much dedicated to making sure that no-one else finds out about us.” BamBam explained. “It's the first rule. No-one must know.” BamBam nodded to himself as he continued to explain. “You see, if anyone ever found out about us, we'd be hunted down and taken in for experiments just to see how we became like this. We need to protect each other, we're all we have left in this world.” he finished passionately, looking up at Mark. 

Or rather, the space where Mark used to be. “EH?!” he screeched at the empty space which once occupied Mark. “I'm so dead...” He muttered to himself.

 

Mark raced through the undergrowth of the forest surrounding his village, determined to get as far away as possible from BamBam and his insane explanations about 'Immortals' and 'Elders'.

“What kind of crap is he trying to pull?” Mark scoffed to himself as he pushed the branches out of the way violently. “Honestly, an Immortal community? Elders?” He paused as a thin branch viciously whipped at his outstretched hand, watching with fascination as the skin started to knit itself back together at an alarming rate. Mark's brow furrowed as he realised that this meant that BamBam had been telling the truth all along, and that he himself was now bestowed with the burden of being Immortal. “So if that was true,” he whispered to a rabbit that had hopped along his path, “that means that everything he said about there being Elders was true as well.”

He stopped as he came to an abrupt and completely unthought out plan. “In that case...HEY ELDERS! IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, I DON'T WANT THIS! I WANT TO BE WITH MY MOTHER IN OUR HOUSE LIVING OUT OUR DAYS PEACEFULLY! SEEING AS YOU SAW FIT TO TAKE HER FROM ME, I HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR WHAT I'M ABOUT TO BRING TO THE WORLD!” He screamed to the heavens above him, not even finding it in himself to feel foolish about shouting at unknown entities wherever they may be. “Game on.” he whispered as he disappeared into the shadows.

Somewhere in a far off setting, the council of Elders were sitting around discussing the rising of the new Immortal Mark. “He is young, he will be impulsive.” one said sagely, looking over the records of Mark's previous life in Salem. “As much as that is true Elder, we cannot force him to accept this honour, nor can we force him to join us in preparing future Immortals. Ultimately, it is up to him what he chooses to do, as long as he does not put our community in danger.” another replied, “we've sent a younger Immortal out to meet him and explain our rules, one Kunpimook Bhuwakul, I believe.” 

At that moment, a shift in the air became visible as a heavy atmosphere wrapped itself around the four members of the Council. “I HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR WHAT I'M ABOUT TO BRING TO THE WORLD!” echoed in the minds of each of the Council members, bouncing around their skulls until a soft “Game on.” was heard.

Taking a sharp breath the Head Council member rose slightly, “It looks like our young Kunpimook has failed in his task. Bring him back here so that he can explain himself and be punished justly.” he ordered imperiously, watching with narrowed eyes as his council members hurried off to send his angry message. 

“Oh Kunpimook, what did you say to make it all go horribly wrong?” he sighed, rubbing his temples gently.


End file.
